


In Another Life, I Would Be Your Girl

by GoldenWaffles



Series: Trophyverse [3]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But like the in-universe Alternate Universe, Drunk Nicole Haught, Episode: s02e11 Gone as a Girl Can Get, F/F, So almost canon compliant, Two-Shot, but still not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenWaffles/pseuds/GoldenWaffles
Summary: In a world without Wynonna, an extremely drunk Sheriff Haught spills her secrets to an increasingly wavering Waverly Gibson, in a night that leaves them both with more questions than answers. Also, feelings happen. Lots of feelings.Takes place in what I’m dubbing the “Trophyverse” from 2x11, where Wynonna has been haphazardly erased from the timeline. This story occurs in the in the (technically speaking nonexistent) time before the events of the episode.





	1. Shorty's

**Author's Note:**

> For what it’s worth, I’m not even trying to pretend that this makes sense in the context of the episode. But that’s the wonder of fanfiction. Mostly, I just love Drunk Nicole and the adorably pining Nicole from Gone as a Girl Can Get, and I wanted to combine them. So this is that fic. I decided to post it in two parts, since there is kind of a natural divide.

“Alright, I’m here,” Waverly said, stepping behind the bar after shedding her raincoat in the back room. Thunder rumbled outside, but it was muffled by the walls and mostly drowned out by the music playing over the speakers.

 

“Oh my God, thank you _so_ much. I’m _so_ sorry I have to leave early. Family emergency,” Chrissy said, wringing her hands and sounding honestly apologetic.

 

“It’s fine. No big deal,” Waverly answered with more brightness than she felt. “Go on, I’ve got it.”

 

“Okay. It’s been pretty quiet so far. I think most people were scared off by the storm.” Chrissy nodded towards a back corner. “Deputy… I mean, the Sheriff’s back there, though. I’m guessing it’s her first night off in a long time.”

 

“Sheriff Haught is here?” Waverly asked, her annoyance at having to come in on her night off evaporating, replaced by curiosity.

 

“Yeah. I just told her she’s cut off, so you shouldn’t need to serve her anything.”

 

“Wait, you mean she’s drunk?” Waverly could hear the surprise in her own voice. Chrissy nodded, smirking.

 

“Extremely. But she’s not giving anyone trouble. She’s actually a very adorable drunk, all things considered. Every time I stop by to check on her, she tells me these crazy stories about things she did before she came here. Rock climbing, and music festivals, and academy adventures, and something about building emergency shelters in flood zones.”

 

Waverly’s eyes followed Chrissy’s nod back to the corner, intrigued by the idea of a drunk and chatty Sheriff Haught. The sheriff was always so kind and warm and friendly and encouraging with her. And her outrageously oversized tips were a not-insignificant part of Waverly’s weekly take-home pay.

 

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure she gets home safe when I lock up.”

 

“Perfect. I mean, I’m sure she can take care of herself, but I always feel kind of bad for her. After Dad died…” Chrissy blinked furiously and cleared her throat, like it was still too hard to talk about. Waverly pulled her into a hug, and by the time she pulled back, Chrissy had composed herself. “Anyway, thanks again.”

 

After Chrissy departed, Waverly made herself pretend to clean the bar and arrange glasses for several minutes, briefly acknowledging the small number of regulars who had braved the storm to make an appearance. Then, giving in to her burning curiosity, she poured a soda and made her way back in the direction Chrissy had pointed.

 

Sure enough, Nicole Haught was sitting in a back corner in plain clothes, a puple long-sleeved blouse and a pair of dark-wash jeans with cowboy boots. She looked tired but giddy, swaying her head slightly to the music playing over the speakers. As Waverly approached, the sheriff noticed her, and an immediate thousand-watt smile lit up her whole face.

 

“Hey look, it’s you,” she slurred, beaming at her. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight.”

 

“Chrissy asked if I could close for her,” Waverly explained.

 

“Oh no, is she okay?” Sheriff Haught asked, her smile melting instantly into concern. Ever since Sheriff Nedley’s death, his replacement had seemed particularly protective of her predecessor's daughter. Which only made it sweeter that tonight, Chrissy was being the protective one.

 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Waverly set the drink on the table. “Here, I got you this. Chrissy said you’re cut off.”

 

Nicole nodded like she understood, then kept nodding.

 

“I came in for a drink. And to watch people. And also to have a few drinks. And then I had all these.” She gestured to the table with a sweeping hand, and looked surprised that it was empty. “They were there a second ago.”

 

Waverly stifled a laugh at the usually composed sheriff’s drunken antics and gave her a warm smile, pushing the soda towards her.

 

“Well, you still have an hour before we close up. Drink that and let me know if you need any water or anything.”

 

“Thanks!” the sheriff chirped, pulling out her wallet to pay for the drink. Waverly held up a hand to stop her.

 

“Hey, it’s on the house,” she said firmly. The sheriff shot her a scandalized look.

 

“No way, nope. Nuh-uh. I refuse to take part in bankrupting Purgatory’s best business, buddy. Refuse.” She stabbed two fingers against the table to emphasize her point.

 

“Sheriff Haught, you are the most notorious over-tipper I’ve ever had at this bar, and soda costs us basically nothing. It’s fine.”

 

The sheriff tossed her fiery red hair and put a five dollar bill on the table with defiance in her barely focused, deep brown eyes.

 

“That’s for the soda. And no change.”

 

“Sodas are a dollar, and I’m not accepting a 400% tip, even from you.” Waverly pushed the bill back towards her. “Keep your money, Sheriff. You can’t keep this place afloat on your own.”

 

“It’s not just that. I want to let you know how much I appreciate you,” Sheriff Haught rambled with the heartfelt earnestness that was so common in the intoxicated and so rare in the sober. “You’re always so nice, and you’re always smiling, even when you probably don’t feel like it, and you’re so pretty.”

 

Waverly blushed, warmth flooding her at the other woman’s ardent praise. But the sheriff trailed off, looking confused for a second.

 

“Wait… oh nooooo,” she moaned, laying her head on the table.

 

“What’s wrong?” Waverly asked, suddenly worried.

 

“I’m not supposed to talk to you. That’s rule number three. Don’t talk to Waverly when you are drunk, Nicole.” The sheriff sounded miserable. She looked up at Waverly with wide, distressed eyes. “I forgot. That was why I came when Chrissy was here. And now you’re here, and I was so happy to see you that I forgot about the rules.”

 

Waverly blinked down at her, a little shocked and a lot confused and maybe a tiny bit hurt.

 

“What? Why can’t you talk to me when you’re drunk?” she asked, her tone somewhere between baffled and indignant. Nicole looked miserable.

 

“Because I say stuff when I’m drunk. Like, all the time. I can’t help it. My mouth forgets to ask my brain if it’s okay to say stuff.”

 

Waverly relaxed a little at the explanation. So the sheriff was afraid of saying something stupid while drunk. That made sense. She tried to wave off the other woman’s discomfort.

 

“Ah, don’t worry about that. I work at a bar, I talk to drunk people almost all day. I’m used to a few slip-ups, Sheriff.”

 

“Nicole,” the sheriff said. She was gazing up at Waverly with huge eyes. In the poor lighting, it was hard to tell where her pupils ended and her dark brown irises began, and they reminded Waverly of a puppy. “Just call me Nicole. Please?”

 

“Oh. Okay. Sure. Nicole, then.” When Waverly said her name, the corners of her mouth lifted.

 

“I like the way it sounds when you say it,” Nicole murmured, apparently forgetting her prior misery. “Your voice is pretty. Just like your face.”

 

“Thanks, Nicole,” Waverly chuckled. She knew that she should return to the bar, but something about the sheriff… _Nicole_ … sitting drunk and alone in a back corner of the bar made her sad. “Um… I should get back to the bar, but I’ll check on you later, and you can come get me if you need anything.”

 

“I don’t need anything,” Nicole sighed, sounding resigned. Waverly hesitated.

 

“You know, you don’t have to skulk in this dark corner like you’re Batman. You could come sit at the bar if you want,” she offered. Nicole tried to smile up at her, but couldn’t fully manage it.

 

“Believe me, I would really, really like that. A lot. But I didn’t want people to see their sheriff all drunk and babbling and stuff. Thought that might make them feel kind of not exactly totally safe.”

 

“Nedley was here every day when he was alive. And often twice a day.”

 

“Nedley was a man. And he was from here. And more importantly, he was a man,” Nicole pointed out. Waverly had to admit that she was right. There was a difference between the well-known old sheriff drowning his sorrows at the local bar and the young, female, recently-promoted, former-big-city deputy doing the same.

 

“Well, there’s only like two other people here now, and I don’t think Rick and Dusty are going to tattle on you.”

 

Nicole seemed to consider this for about a second, and then pulled herself, swaying, to her feet.

 

“Okie dokie artichokie, let’s go sit at the bar. Or me sit at the bar, you stand behind it. Or whatever.” She staggered a little as she took a step in that direction. Waverly rushed forward, grasping her arm to steady her. Even through her shirt, Nicole’s skin felt blazingly hot, but the sheriff froze at her touch, not even seeming to breathe.

 

“Woah, easy there. You’ve had a lot. Maybe you should lean on me.”

 

Nicole gave her an adorably wide-eyed look that was hard to read, but might have been part terrified and part elated. Waverly pulled Nicole’s arm around her shoulders and began leading the taller woman to the bar.

 

“This is definitely breaking Rule Number Two,” Nicole slurred vaguely, leaning into her side. Waverly decided not to question her this time, and instead deposited her on a bar stool, where she could lean on the wooden bar and regain her equilibrium. “Thanks. You’re _so_ nice.”

 

“So are you. And Chrissy was right, you’re a very charming drunk.”

 

Nicole flashed her a wide, adoring smile that showed off her dimples and made Waverly's heart skip a beat for some reason. “Uh, here, drink this. I’ll be back in a minute.” Waverly set the soda back on the bar and went to check on her other two customers, feeling oddly flustered.

 

She started to clean up for the night, wiping down tables and counters and gathering empty glasses and trash. Nicole stayed in her seat at the bar, and Waverly couldn’t help but keep half an eye on her as she went about her closing duties. The sheriff looked tired but relaxed, and Waverly noticed how different she looked in normal clothes as opposed to her uniform. Not that she didn’t look good in her uniform— she absolutely did— but in a regular shirt and jeans, her hair tumbling in messy waves, she looked… softer. More feminine. More real, somehow.

 

The last two of her regular customers nodded to her and left out the front door about a half hour before closing, visibly bracing themselves against the weather outside. That just left the sheriff and Waverly.

 

“I can leave now if you want to close early,” Nicole offered after Rick and Dusty left. She had finished her soda and was drawing patterns in the condensation with her fingertips. Waverly smiled at her, touched by the offer.

 

“That’s okay. I have some more cleaning up to do anyway. I’ll just flip the sign, but you can stay while I finish closing up.”

 

“Okay.” Nicole seemed content with that idea. Waverly refilled her soda again and swatted her arm when she reached for her wallet.

 

“Sodas have free refills,” she said sternly, wagging a finger in her direction.

 

“I didn’t even pay for the first one. Come on,” the sheriff whined, sounding petulant.

 

“And I’m sure the bar made quite a bundle getting you into this state, especially with the way you tip. I think we can afford the investment.”

 

“How’s it an investment?” Nicole smiled indulgently at her, like she really wanted to hear the answer.

 

“Well, the idea is that you remember our fine service and come back some other night,” Waverly explained, returning the smile automatically.

 

“Alright, it’s a date,” Nicole said, face bright like the sun and eyes twinkling like stars. Unexpectedly, in the space between seconds, Waverly’s brain had a flash of an image in her head, an infinitesimally short film strip of what it would be like to date Nicole-- having the Sheriff’s soft eyes looking at her like that every day, kissing her, lying in bed with her, even having sex with her. It was shocking how clearly she could imagine Nicole’s naked body, down to every minute detail-- each freckle dotting her skin, and every scar marking an old injury. Waverly felt herself blush _hard_ and take a step back, and Nicole immediately looked sheepish and apologetic. She quickly clarified via stage whisper, “That was a joke.”

 

“I know,” Waverly said, her voice sounding high and unsteady. Her heart was pounding, and she tried to shake off the strange feeling. "It's fine."

 

Nicole must have felt guilty about the comment, because she fell silent afterwards, obediently drinking her soda and letting her gaze roam around the room, lingering on the old Wyatt Earp decorations. At five minutes before the hour, she pulled herself up, swaying slightly, and checked her pockets like she was about to leave.

 

“You okay to get home?” Waverly asked. Nicole bobbed her head.

 

“Yep. No problemo.” She gave a final, glowing smile. “Well, Waverly Gibson, I will see you… the next time I see you. Probably at noon, since that’s usually when I see you.”

 

“Goodnight, Sheriff. Thanks for coming in,” Waverly answered, although something about the words felt lacking. Too trite. Too impersonal. It was what she would say to any customer. “And thanks for the conversation. I don’t always get such good company, especially at this hour.”

 

Nicole’s face started to light up into another beaming smile, but after a second it darkened, eyebrows knitting in concern.

 

“You know that if anyone ever _ever_ makes you feel unsafe, you can always call me. Any day, any time. Always. You know that, right?” she said. Waverly felt that flush of warmth again.

 

“Yeah, Sheriff, I know.”

 

Nicole looked oddly frustrated by that response.

 

“Not just because I’m sheriff,” she groaned, trying to stomp her foot for emphasis and nearly losing her balance in the process. “I mean, even if you don’t want to call the department, because Lonnie’s kinda an idiot, or if there’s some creep here and they aren’t doing anything threatening, but you’re just kinda uncomfortable, you can still always call me. Me. Nicole.” Nicole’s face was earnest and searching, and Waverly felt herself soften even more towards the woman.

 

“I know, Nicole.”

 

Sheriff Haught’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she nodded.

 

“Okay then. Just so long as you know. It’s important.” She finished walking to the door, tripping a little on one of the floorboards, and turned back with her hand resting on the door handle. “Good night, Waverly.” She slipped outside before Waverly could say anything back, and Waverly felt a small pang as she left the room, feeling strangely, suddenly lonely.


	2. Nicole's

Waverly stared at the door for a long moment, her instincts stirring and asking _Wait, wh_ _ere_ _did Nicole_ _go_ _?_ She shook the feeling off and finished what was left of clearing the tables, but the sparse evening crowd hadn’t left much to be done. Within a matter of minutes, she was retrieving her coat and heading out the door--

 

\--At which point, she nearly walked directly into one Sheriff Nicole Haught, who was standing on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight, looking up at the pouring rain, and out at the flashes of lightning in the distance. It wasn’t an especially cold night, but Waverly doubted standing in the rain for extended periods of time was great for anyone’s health.

 

“Nicole, are you okay?” Waverly asked, placing a hand on her arm, where the shirt sleeve was long since soaked through, without even a jacket to cover it. Nicole looked up and beamed at her like they hadn’t just seen each other minutes before.

 

“Hey, you called me Nicole!” she said, grinning like a lunatic. Rain ran in rivulets down her face and dripped off the ends of her hair, but her smile was all sunshine, and Waverly felt her face warm on instinct.

 

“And you were supposed to be on your way home.”

 

“Right. Well, uh, it’s raining, see. And I can’t remember which direction I’m supposed to go. And walking seems to make the world shake. And the rain feels nice.” She pointed out towards the mountains. “And the lightning is so pretty, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it sure is. Right up until it hits you and you die.” Waverly tugged on her arm, pulling her towards the jeep in the parking lot. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

 

“You know where I live?” Nicole asked, sounding surprised but pleased.

 

“Of course I do,” Waverly said, then frowned as she tried to remember _how_ she knew. “I mean, it’s a small town and you’re the sheriff. I bet everyone knows.”

 

Nicole seemed a little disheartened by that, but amicably followed her and let Waverly pour her into the passenger seat, where she slumped back, a mess of dripping red hair and long limbs and cowboy boots.

 

“Thanks for driving me,” Nicole said once they were on their way. “And talking with me.”

 

“Even though it’s against your rules?” Waverly asked, still feeling a bit peeved about the weird ‘rules’ thing.

 

“Yeah. I don’t like those rules anyway. Stupid rules.” She pouted, looking childish and adorable, nothing like her usual professional exterior. It made something in Waverly soften towards her.

 

“I just don’t even get why you need them in the first place. Why can’t you talk to me? Is there something wrong with me?” she asked, feeling confused and insecure. Nicole’s eyes went comically wide.

 

“ _No_. No times _infinity_. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. You’re the _best_.” Nicole looked at her with earnest admiration. “If anything, I think there’s probably something wrong with _me_.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Nicole was quiet for several seconds, to the point where Waverly glanced over to make sure she was still awake. She was, but was staring out at the lightning over the mountains, looking as serious as Waverly had ever seen her. Finally, the answer came spilling out in what sounded like one long sigh.

 

“Have you ever met someone and just had this feeling that you’re connected? Like… you recognize them, even though you’ve never even met before?” It was probably the longest, most coherent thing she had said all night, but in some ways it was also the most confusing. There was a stretch of silence in the car while Waverly processed it, broken only by the rumble of thunder in the distance.

 

“Um… I don’t know, sheriff.”

 

“Nicole,” she corrected.

 

“I don’t know, Sheriff Nicole.” This made the redhead laugh, momentarily breaking the tension in the car. She turned sideways in the car seat so that she could face Waverly, slumping tiredly but still looking at her with interest.

 

“What about Perry? You didn’t feel that with him?”

 

“Perry?” For just an instant, in the space between seconds, the word meant nothing to Waverly. Her brain scanned over it and came up blank. But the confusion was over almost before it began, and she snapped back into reality, thoughts of her fiancé coming back into focus. “Oh, right, Perry. Um… maybe. I mean, he’s great, but I don’t know that we’re, like, cosmically preordained soulmates or anything.”

 

Nicole squeezed her eyes closed.

 

“Ugh, you probably think I’m crazypants,” she groaned miserably.

 

“Of course I don't. I would never think that about you. You’re like the coolest person I’ve ever met, and there’s no one in Purgatory I’d rather have as sheriff. You’re so brave and strong and sweet, and you always do the right thing.”

 

Nicole’s face split into a grin, but one with a pained edge.

 

“God, you’re going to kill me if you say stuff like that,” she breathed. Waverly pulled into the driveway of a small wooden house with tulips in the yard.

 

“We’re here.” She helped Nicole back out of the car and herded her inside. She was pretty sure she had never been in the sheriff’s house before. Inside, it was somewhat spartan, but just furnished enough to be called cozy. Everything was in shades of blue, and the only prominent decorations were a number of framed panoramas, all taken from great heights, lending credence to Chrissy’s comment about her rock climbing past. Nicole staggered over to the couch, climbed over the back of it, and collapsed back on the cushions, looking relieved.

 

“Hey, I think the room spins less this way,” she said stretching out and rolling to face the room’s interior. She frowned at the large open space in front of her. “Didn’t there used to be a coffee table there?” she murmured, possibly to herself. Waverly knew she should go home, but something kept her from leaving. She sat in a creaky brown leather armchair and looked at Nicole, who was as soaked through and bedraggled as a drowning victim, and yet… still looked unbelievably beautiful somehow. She was just so full of life. Vitality. Emotion. _Joie de vivre_ , Waverly thought to herself.

 

“Nicole… Do you really think we’re connected? You and me?” She nudged at an area rug on the floor with the toe of her shoe. “That _is_ what you meant in the car, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah. But if I’m the only one who feels it, then I must be wrong, right? And I don’t want to freak you out or scare you away or anything, so I made myself these rules about what I’m not allowed to do." Nicole tapped her own forehead. "How smart is that? That’s… It was real smart, trust me. Real important. Even if the rules suck bigtime.”

 

“Do they help?” Waverly asked. Nicole smiled wryly.

 

“Well, you don’t _seem_ totally terrified of me, so, and I’ve never had to sign my own restraining order, so… kinda?” She made a face. “But I kept hoping that the feeling would go away if I just ignored it for long enough. That was Rule Number One. ‘Stop feeling this way.’ Which I had to change to ‘Pretend you stopped feeling this way,’ because it never stopped. Ever. And that _mega_ sucks.”

 

Waverly looked out the window, where lightning flashed in the distance, avoiding looking at Nicole directly.

 

“What does it feel like to you? The connection, I mean.”

 

Nicole blew out a long breath, puffing out her cheeks ridiculously while still managing to look resigned.

 

“It feels like… like the two of us used to be really, really close… until really, really recently. And so I still feel, like, the ghost of that relationship. Haunting my heart, or my brain, or wherever. Some… phantom limb of connection.”

 

“Like we were best friends?”

 

Nicole smiled humorlessly and gave Waverly another indulgent look, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

 

“You really want an answer for that, future Mrs. Perry Crofte?” she drawled, and Waverly flushed pink at her tone. “Look, silly goose, I haven’t made much of a secret about the _nature_ of my feelings towards you. I like you so much, Waverly. I’d rather be your friend than nothing, but…” She cut herself off with a sigh, and Waverly felt momentarily guilty. She _did_ know the sheriff’s feelings, deep down. She had just never been brave enough to acknowledge that she knew. Nicole shrugged and shook her head. “Look, Perry’s a good guy, unlike some of the other chumps in this town... But I just… I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve got some history together. Even though I _know_ we don’t.” She frowned to herself, like she wasn’t sure she believed it, and repeated more quietly, “I _know_ we don’t.”

 

Waverly let the confession hang in the air for several long, stretching moments, sifting through her own thoughts. Nicole didn’t say anything else, and the silence was heavy. A huge, yellow-orange cat crept into the room, padding up to where Nicole sprawled on the couch and pawing at her pant leg. Waverly thought the words _Calamity Jane_ , an instant before Nicole murmured, “Hey, Calamity.” The cat sniffed at her, realized that she was soaking wet, and puffed up indignantly. Instead, it trotted over and hopped into Waverly’s lap as though it had done it a hundred times before. She automatically stroked the cat’s head, and it purred like a tiny motor.

 

“I think… maybe it’s not _entirely_ just you.” Waverly started, haltingly, looking down at the cat instead of its owner. “I mean, I sometimes feel something kinda like that.”

 

“About me?” Nicole asked, an undercurrent of hope rising in her voice, and Waverly nodded, still petting the cat with determined focus.

 

“It’s different for me, though. I don’t know if it’s even the same thing, but there’s this thing…” She blushed, and could feel Nicole fixing her with a blazingly intense look. “Sometimes… I catch myself looking for you, even if there’s no reason why you should be there. My brain just goes ‘Hey, where’s Nicole?’ Even if I’m at home or in the car or something.” She continued in a rush, riding her short-lived surge of bravery. “Or my phone will go off with a call or a text and I’ll wonder if it’s you, and of course it’s not, because _why would it be_? That’s crazy, right?” Waverly shook her head, forcing an unconvincing laugh, and murmured again, more to herself this time, “Why would it be you?”

 

Nicole gazed at her seriously. A little bit of the glazed look from the alcohol had burned off, leaving her looking more like herself.

 

“So you _do_ feel it?” Her voice was low and steady, and her eyes were smoldering.

 

“I don’t know. It’s just… something.” Waverly shook her head, embarrassed. “Like… a few weeks ago, you came into Shorty’s after your shift, and I hadn’t noticed you yet and I was distracted, but I must’ve walked past you, because I suddenly knew you were there, even though I didn’t see you, and I think it was because I could _smell_ you. How crazy is that? Why would I know what you _smell_ like?” Waverly fidgeted, longing for a cup of tea or a bottle of whiskey just for something to hold. She continued petting the cat to keep her hands busy. “It’s vanilla, by the way. You always smell just like vanilla dip donuts.” She glanced up quickly and saw Nicole gazing at her with a soft, hopeful expression. She offered a small smile back. “They’re my favorite.”

 

“Waves…” Nicole’s voice was soft in a way that Waverly wasn’t sure she had ever heard, and she couldn’t remember if the sheriff had ever called her ‘Waves’ before, but something about it was so familiar that it made her want to scream.

 

“Look, I don’t know what it means. Or if it’s the same thing you feel. But… I don’t think you’re crazy. I just… don’t know what it is.” She could feel herself getting agitated. Something was wrong. Something was _off_. She just couldn’t put her finger on _what_.

 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know. Nothing has to change.” Nicole let out a long breath, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes looked shiny, and Waverly wondered if it was the alcohol or if she was fighting tears. “I’m just… glad. That it’s not just me. And maybe I’m not crazy. And that I haven’t been secretly freaking you out.”

 

“You haven’t been. So you can go ahead and throw those rules out. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

 

Nicole shook her head, chuckling.

 

“ _Just_ you? You’re not ‘just’ anything, Waverly. You really have no idea how amazing you are.” Nicole rubbed at her eyes and tugged at her shirt, which was soaking wet and clung to her like a second skin. The movement drew Waverly’s attention, and she found herself tracing the outline of the shirt with her eyes, drinking in the Sheriff’s lean, athletic form, roaming over each curve. The sight of it made something tingle in the back of her head.

 

“I didn’t know Shorty’s had wet T-shirt competitions,” Waverly murmured, feeling like she was pulling the words from somewhere else. The tingling in the back of her mind increased tenfold. Nicole gave a sharp laugh, making Calamity Jane start.

 

“I was just thinking the exact same thing,” she said, tugging at her wet shirt again. “Funny…”

 

“I...” Waverly started, having no idea what to say next, or where they could possibly go from here. “I should probably go.”

 

Nicole looked visibly disappointed, but nodded.

 

“Yeah, probably.” She tried to sit up, but Waverly held up a hand.

 

“No, stay there. I don’t want you tripping and falling over anything. Um… hold on a sec.” Waverly coaxed the cat out of her lap and stood, making sure that Nicole was staying put. She ducked into Nicole’s kitchen and, on her first try, opened a cabinet containing an assortment of glasses and mugs. She picked a mug decorated with a cartoon unicorn under a rainbow and filled it with water, and instinctively went to set it on the coffee table. Which didn't exist. The thought struck her that Nicole was right, there _should_ be a coffee table in front of the couch. For some reason, its absence made her shiver. “You'll need this.” She set the mug of water on an end table instead.

 

Part of her wanted to keep going. To fetch dry pajamas and blankets. To make her tea or coffee or food. To help her out of her wet clothes. To rub warmth back into her skin. To explore their connection. But that would be crazy. Any of that would be crazy. They barely even knew each other.

 

“Thanks,” Nicole seemed disproportionately touched by the simple cup of water. “For everything. For talking to me. And taking me home. And not calling me crazy.”

 

“Anytime.” Waverly hesitated. Leaving felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. She shook her head, trying to right her thoughts. Her heart was pounding like it knew something she didn’t. “Take care of yourself, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

 

Nicole seemed to find this funny, chuckling.

 

“Nope, I never _need_ anything. Just want it. And want it. And want it.” She looked at Waverly’s stricken face, and her expression softened. “Hey, don’t you worry about me, Waverly Gibson. I’m just fine. By morning I will be right as rain and probably not remember a whole lot of this conversation. So don’t worry so much. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

 

“Okay...” It felt like such a weak, cowardly response, but Waverly didn’t know what a brave one would even sound like. “Goodnight, Nicole.”

 

“Goodnight, Waverly.” The sheriff rolled onto her side and closed her eyes with a sigh. Waverly told her legs to move, to take her to the door, but she was frozen in place, still feeling restless and wrong. She stared down at the sheriff, who was still and silent, apparently already asleep. Waverly peered into her tired, peaceful face, and was overwhelmed by an outrageous compulsion. Before she could think of all the many, _many_ reasons not to, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Nicole’s forehead. It was cool and damp from the rain, but soft against her lips in a way that made her shiver.

 

Willing herself not to think about what had just happened, Waverly practically ran out of Nicole’s house and into the empty night, her whole body shaking and her lips burning and her head clouded with the unmistakable scent of vanilla dip donuts.

 

It would be okay. She would make sense of this. She would see Nicole tomorrow. She had to go to the police station anyway to get those change of name forms. She was sure things would be back to normal by then. She was about to marry Perry. She was about to be part of a family again. She was about to get out of this dead-end town where she had lost everyone who had ever meant anything to her.

 

Things were finally looking up for Waverly Gibson-née-Earp-soon-to-be-Crofte. Everything was the way it was supposed to be now. She just had to keep believing that. She had to _make_ herself believe that, because what could the alternative possibly be? How could she ever want anything else out of life? What right did she have to ask for anything more?

 

She climbed into her car, and when her brain, just for an instant, asked _W_ _ait, w_ _here’s Nicole?_ , she ignored it. Everything was fine. She already had one foot over the town line. She was starting a new life. Everything would be fine. She would figure this out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I doubt this will be my last entry into this fandom. It's hard to resist writing for this unicorn/angel ship.


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